Jen Knox's Blog, page 14
May 30, 2024
70-min sleep support with affirmations
This is a longer sleep track to help those with ruminating thoughts. The affirmations support relaxation and prepare the body to reset in its slumber.
On Positive Potatoes & Week 2 of 52
I’ve taken a few ego blows this week, which I won’t unpack here. But I will say that ego blows can be good for the soul. They can make you reassess what you want and why. They also show you where you are not showing up for yourself.
This week, I plan to show up for myself. That might mean little more than making time to write, drinking more water, and reminding myself that I am more than what I do.
Here we are is a reader-supported publication.
Regarding writing, I’ve been moving slowly because it’s time to start something entirely new. The essay collection is DONE *dusts hands* and I’m drawn to write something forward-moving rather than retrospective. So that’s the way I’m approaching Week 2.
Oh, and to compensate for a bruised ego, I have a(nother) package of positive potatoes to send out into the world.
I was drawn to buy these brilliant little guys in bulk a few months ago because a.) my dog is named Potato and b.) I think the simplicity and silliness is genius. Who could be handed a positive potato and not smile?
My students loved them. The gift even cracked a smile on the face of a student I wasn’t sure could smile. Family and friends have been given or mailed positive potatoes, and images of them have been returned to me in emails and texts (better than blank books, if you get that reference).
This is a simple thing, but it’s bringing me much joy. The act also brings me to a writing prompt.
Writing Prompt:
What is a goofy thing that made you smile? The goofier, the more nonsensical, the less expected, the better.
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” ― Mae WestAYTL Prompt:
It’s Week 2 of 52. Last week, we wrote a few sentences to remind ourselves of what we’re doing (which is here, if you missed it) and reflect. I personally found myself forgetting often, so I propose carrying this practice of remembering the intention forward and committing to a tiny step toward living the life we’ll be proud of.
Here’s what the week ahead looks like for me:
I am REMEMBERING this challenge, EXPLORING my ego, and GIVING away a shit-ton of positive potatoes—my small way of connecting.
Share your reflections. What does the week look like for you?
On positive potatoes & Week 2 of 52
I’ve taken a few ego blows this week, which I won’t unpack here. But I will say that ego blows can be good for the soul. They can make you reassess what you want and why. They also show you where you are not showing up for yourself.
This week, I plan to show up for myself. That might mean little more than making time to write, drinking more water, and reminding myself that I am more than what I do.
Here we are is a reader-supported publication.
Regarding writing, I’ve been moving slowly because it’s time to start something entirely new. The essay collection is DONE *dusts hands* and I’m drawn to write something forward-moving rather than retrospective. So that’s the way I’m approaching Week 2.
Oh, and to compensate for a bruised ego, I have a(nother) package of positive potatoes to send out into the world.
I was drawn to buy these brilliant little guys in bulk a few months ago because a.) my dog is named Potato and b.) I think the simplicity and silliness is genius. Who could be handed a positive potato and not smile?
My students loved them. The gift even cracked a smile on the face of a student I wasn’t sure could smile. Family and friends have been given or mailed positive potatoes, and images of them have been returned to me in emails and texts (better than blank books, if you get that reference).
This is a simple thing, but it’s bringing me much joy. The act also brings me to a writing prompt.
Writing Prompt:
What is a goofy thing that made you smile? The goofier, the more nonsensical, the less expected, the better.
“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.” ― Mae WestAYTL Prompt:
It’s Week 2 of 52. Last week, we wrote a few sentences to remind ourselves of what we’re doing (which is here, if you missed it) and reflect. I personally found myself forgetting often, so I propose carrying this practice of remembering the intention forward and committing to a tiny step toward living the life we’ll be proud of.
Here’s what the week ahead looks like for me:
I am REMEMBERING this challenge, EXPLORING my ego, and GIVING away a shit-ton of positive potatoes—my small way of connecting.
Share your reflections. What does the week look like for you?
May 23, 2024
On moving forward & Week 1 of 52
“My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground on which I stand.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
I’ve been blogging here on Substack weekly since January of 2023. This platform has been a wonderful place to land and explore (random ideas). I wasn’t sure I could be this consistent for so long. Consistency can be an issue because my energy and attention have often been hard to wrangle. But here we are. 🎉
I appreciate your attention and support. Genuinely.
As such, I invite you to watch curiously or join a year-long challenge with me. It starts now, the third week of May 2024, or whenever you read this. Mark your date accordingly. And before I get to the details, I’ll explain the why behind the challenge.
I was recently elected President of a nonprofit women’s organization affiliated with OSU. This is a huge commitment and one I wasn’t sure I wanted due to the political climate in Ohio (and in general). A strong voice is required for this role (and not just on paper). But, terrified as I am, I’ve resolved that it is the challenge and opportunity I need to explore the value of what it is possible to CREATE and set in motion, despite obstacles.
Every year, the president picks a word/theme. You can probably guess what mine will be (see paragraph above).
Photo by Kerri ShaverSo why did I take this on, especially weeks after writing about burnout?
Well, friends, this brings me to the challenge. I’m rereading A Year to Live by Stephen Levine again. I like to reread this slim exploration every few years and work through its challenge for 365 days/52 weeks. In the book, Levine proposes that we a.) confront and explore our mortality b.) leverage that exploration to help realize/remember how beautiful life is and c.) attempt to live this year as though it were the last.
What’s remarkable about this book, which I’ve written about before, is that it highlights how diverse responses are to terminal illnesses and how much we can change our perspective quickly by remembering the ephemeral nature of life. Some people slow down, others speed up; some travel more, and others spend more time at home gardening. Some gain spiritual practices, and others leave them behind.
I love to remind myself of this because it flies in the face of the idea that to cherish life or get the most out of each day means to live by a particular playbook.
For me, this year is about choosing wisely and choosing what will help me grow. It is about releasing expectations and welcoming what comes. Even the tough stuff, even the impossible stuff. But it’s also about refining my ability to listen within. If you’d like to explore this creatively, check out the writing prompt below. More holistically? Hey, join me!
Writing Prompt:
If you had a year to live, what changes would you make? If you’re writing fiction, how would your character’s perspective change?
AYTL Prompt:
Go on this journey with me. I’ll check in each week at the bottom of the post here. I’m personally beginning today, so it’s Week 1 of 52. This week, I will write a few sentences at the beginning and end of each day to remind myself of this project and self-assess. I invite you to do the same.
Thank you for reading Here we are. This post is public so feel free to share it.
On moving forward: Week 1 of 52
“My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground on which I stand.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
I’ve been blogging here on Substack weekly since January of 2023. This platform has been a wonderful place to land and explore (random ideas). I wasn’t sure I could be this consistent for so long. Consistency can be an issue because my energy and attention have often been hard to wrangle. But here we are. 🎉
I appreciate your attention and support. Genuinely.
As such, I invite you to watch curiously or join a year-long challenge with me. It starts now, the third week of May 2024, or whenever you read this. Mark your date accordingly. And before I get to the details, I’ll explain the why behind the challenge.
I was recently elected President of a nonprofit women’s organization affiliated with OSU. This is a huge commitment and one I wasn’t sure I wanted due to the political climate in Ohio (and in general). A strong voice is required for this role (and not just on paper). But, terrified as I am, I’ve resolved that it is the challenge and opportunity I need to explore the value of what it is possible to CREATE and set in motion, despite obstacles.
Every year, the president picks a word/theme. You can probably guess what mine will be (see paragraph above).
Photo by Kerri ShaverSo why did I take this on, especially weeks after writing about burnout?
Well, friends, this brings me to the challenge. I’m rereading A Year to Live by Stephen Levine again. I like to reread this slim exploration every few years and work through its challenge for 365 days/52 weeks. In the book, Levine proposes that we a.) confront and explore our mortality b.) leverage that exploration to help realize/remember how beautiful life is and c.) attempt to live this year as though it were the last.
What’s remarkable about this book, which I’ve written about before, is that it highlights how diverse responses are to terminal illnesses and how much we can change our perspective quickly by remembering the ephemeral nature of life. Some people slow down, others speed up; some travel more, and others spend more time at home gardening. Some gain spiritual practices, and others leave them behind.
I love to remind myself of this because it flies in the face of the idea that to cherish life or get the most out of each day means to live by a particular playbook.
For me, this year is about choosing wisely and choosing what will help me grow. It is about releasing expectations and welcoming what comes. Even the tough stuff, even the impossible stuff. But it’s also about refining my ability to listen within. If you’d like to explore this creatively, check out the writing prompt below. More holistically? Hey, join me!
Writing Prompt:
If you had a year to live, what changes would you make? If you’re writing fiction, how would your character’s perspective change?
AYTL Prompt:
Go on this journey with me. I’ll check in each week at the bottom of the post here. I’m personally beginning today, so it’s Week 1 of 52. This week, I will write a few sentences at the beginning and end of each day to remind myself of this project and self-assess. I invite you to do the same.
Thank you for reading Here we are. This post is public so feel free to share it.
On moving forward: week 1 of 52
“My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground on which I stand.”
Thich Nhat Hanh
I’ve been blogging here on Substack weekly since January of 2023. This platform has been a wonderful place to land and explore (random ideas). I wasn’t sure I could be this consistent for so long. Consistency can be an issue because my energy and attention have often been hard to wrangle. But here we are. 🎉
I appreciate your attention and support. Genuinely.
As such, I invite you to watch curiously or join a year-long challenge with me. It starts now, the third week of May 2024, or whenever you read this. Mark your date accordingly. And before I get to the details, I’ll explain the why behind the challenge.
I was recently elected President of a nonprofit women’s organization affiliated with OSU. This is a huge commitment and one I wasn’t sure I wanted due to the political climate in Ohio (and in general). A strong voice is required for this role (and not just on paper). But, terrified as I am, I’ve resolved that it is the challenge and opportunity I need to explore the value of exploring what it is possible to CREATE and set in motion, despite obstacles.
Every year, the president picks a word/theme. You can probably guess what mine will be (see paragraph above).
Photo by Kerri ShaverSo why did I take this on, especially weeks after writing about burnout?
Well, friends, this brings me to the challenge. I’m rereading A Year to Live by Stephen Levine again. I like to reread this slim exploration every few years and work through its challenge for 365 days/52 weeks. In the book, Levine proposes that we a.) confront and explore our mortality b.) leverage that exploration to help realize/remember how beautiful life is and c.) attempt to live this year as though it were the last.
What’s remarkable about this book, which I’ve written about before, is that it highlights how diverse responses are to terminal illnesses and how much we can change our perspective quickly by remembering the ephemeral nature of life. Some people slow down, others speed up; some travel more, and others spend more time at home gardening. Some gain spiritual practices, and others leave them behind.
I love to remind myself of this because it flies in the face of the idea that to cherish life or get the most out of each day means to live by a particular playbook.
For me, this year is about choosing wisely and choosing what will help me grow. It is about releasing expectations and welcoming what comes. Even the tough stuff, even the impossible stuff. But it’s also about refining my ability to listen within. If you’d like to explore this creatively, check out the writing prompt below. More holistically? Hey, join me!
Writing Prompt:
If you had a year to live, what changes would you make? If you’re writing fiction, how would your character’s perspective change?
AYTL Prompt:
Go on this journey with me. I’ll check in each week at the bottom of the post here. I’m personally beginning today, so it’s Week 1 of 52. This week, I will write a few sentences at the beginning and end of each day to remind myself of this project and self-assess. I invite you to do the same.
Thank you for reading Here we are. This post is public so feel free to share it.
May 17, 2024
On the value of a human voice
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” ―Ferris BuellerPhoto by h heyerlein
If I ask Google anything, the first response is a generic summary or a paid advertisement. When I shop online, AI summarizes reviews, and an increasing number of news stories (and newsletters) seem to be AI-written or supported.
In case you haven’t noticed, AI is embedded in everything in a way it never was before. We are going the way of the baseline, crowd-sourced, group-think, convenience-over-everything response. Technology promises to make life easier, which is a half-truth, but it’s one many are willing to accept so as not to be “left behind.”
The editing software available with AI is brilliant. It can do things I don’t want to do, such as organize data and complete citations. Sure, it might do so in a way that is completely wrong, but more often than not, it’s a passable attempt. This time last year, I don’t think we could’ve said that.
AI is a big, umbrella technology, after all. But its role in the literary world (don’t get me started on education) is already proving destructive.
I like to hold steady to the idea that you can’t buy the valuable things in life. It’s something my mother always emphasizes.
“I’m proud of you, honey, but … I don’t love you for what you do,” she likes to say. What a phenomenal woman, right?
Contingencies, trades, and payments received … for redundant work can lead to temporary wealth or a feeling of being on the cutting edge, rather than a dissenter, but for what? And will it last?
AI might be able to write a blog, generate an image, provide quick and shitty research, and more ... It can pretend to feel and mimic others’ feelings but it can’t actually “be.”
To be imperfect and not just do what we set out to do, but be exactly as we are, is a human right. And somehow, somewhere, we learn from messing up along the way. If we go baseline for convenience, we lose the good stuff of life.
*Steps off soapbox*
*Steps back on soapbox*
Why bring this up again?
OK. Maybe you disagree, but as an artist, I love the struggle. I love/hate my typos and digressions (see above). I love my fourteenth draft better than my thirteenth, and I love my critics. I love them all because they simply are, and they are proof that I am doing work that’s being seen by other humans, which means a lot to me.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been receiving emails with lines like “This will be our final newsletter” or “We’ll miss you all!” from literary journals and literary orgs. I also notice some of my poet friends, who I thought were lifers, have The Block for the first time or are taking up things like macrame instead.
I realize that I will not stop AI. Though, I do in my dreams.
What I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, however, is what I can do. What writers and artists need right now (also, what I need right now). How can I help them (me) to find sustainability and prowess?
And I keep coming back to the value of the artist’s voice and the responsibility of the whole community to honor it.
I’ve been reading submissions for a work-in-progress contest that we’re holding at Unleash, and I adore the feeling of finding a new voice that rings so authentic and clear and novel to me as a reader that I can experience life anew. This is what good literature does. This is what a single, human voice—one with purpose and fed by imagination and wonder—can do. It can enable us to see what we couldn’t before.
To try to erase this in favor of convenience is a desire that confounds me. But more than figuring it out, or trying to figure it out, I feel compelled to honor more individual voices, to encourage others to do the same, and to continue to write what I know can be replicated but can never be recreated.
I think I’ll stay on my soapbox. I like it here.
I like the few extra inches it gives me, and I like the idea that I might be able to see a little further with the view. I want to see further, too, because I’d like to see beyond what’s convenient and toward the possibility that is alive for us as artists at this time.
But I don’t know exactly what that is.
I want to say … Let’s support and uplift each other from a place of mutual benefit, not mutual payoff. The benefit, after all, comes down to a true reverence and attention to a work. And the value, deeply felt, is undeniable on both sides.
So all this to ask: If you could wave a magic wand right now and get any creative wish answered or support you need (aside from cash), what would you wish for? What would keep you going?
May 11, 2024
On energy
I’ve been thinking a lot about burnout. I recently heard someone say on a podcast that to be “burnt out” didn’t mean being overworked so much as it meant not doing the right work. This sounded good, but I’m not so sure I agree.
Sometimes when we don’t have satisfaction in one area of our lives, we open up new channels. I know I’m guilty of this, anyway. I want to bloom but don’t see it happening, so I start something new. Then I do so again. And again. But what if what I’m being called to do (or calling myself to do) is simply take some time to let my energy and expertise build?
Richard C. McPherson, a talented and wise friend I met some years ago thanks to his stellar writing, recently told the rest of our Unleash crew about the superblooms that sometimes grace California's deserts. While it doesn’t happen every year, what makes the poppy and bluebell blooms “super” is their suddenness, unpredictability, and expansiveness. A staggering number of these flowers arrive at once and blanket fields in color and soft beauty that change the very appearance of our planet from space.
When I lived in San Antonio, I remember a smaller version of this delight when people would drive to the Hill Country to see the bluebonnets explode across arid fields in late March or April. For weeks or months, the flowers were “on it,” as though they’d been waiting for the opportunity to emerge wholly, to reach up toward the sun.
Some of us are like that.
We wait, we think, we plan, we take steps, and then there is the moment that everything seems to bloom. To think we can have balance in day-to-day life can mean putting undue pressure on ourselves during dormant times.
So much of nature holds back, waiting for the right time, taking time to transform or delay development until the conditions are right. Nature responds in a way that is not sentimental or worried about fulfillment.
Meanwhile, so many of us go in two (or more) directions at once, hoping we’ll increase our odds of blooming quickly, intensely … but science class taught us that potential energy is about an object or organism’s inputs and position.
And maybe potential builds when we hold back.
I say this while reflecting on residencies and their value to writers. I think about technology’s emphasis on efficiency and subsequent erosion of attention. To exert too much energy is to work against ourselves, to burn out or tighten into what may feel stronger at first but leaves us more vulnerable than ever. We need to ease on forward and know when to step aside. And maybe sometimes we need to wait before beginning something new.
If we allow the energy we need to build, we may find ourselves blooming—surging ahead—and creating something more magnificent than we can imagine while grinding away.
I was feeling a little burnt out over April. In the last few weeks, I began taking blackout periods in my day, where I refuse to answer emails (I’m not ignoring any of you). I’m slowly, ever-so-slowly, writing new things. I’m planting flowers.
I’m doing all this not to hide or withdraw (don’t get me started on the messaging around that) but to nurture. Because to be burnt out doesn’t mean to do too much. (We’re always doing, even when we’re resting.) It means to try to go in more than one direction at once, or trying to hurry along what needs time to build.
All I know is that where I want to be is right here. Writing. And in a way, I’m also waiting. And that’s okay.
Photo by John Fowler
May 3, 2024
On the Who, What, When, Where & How
I’ve been a creativity coach and writing instructor for over a decade. I’ve taught leadership for 7 years. I love watching people grow and flourish as creatives and humans.
But over the past year, the social and literary landscapes have changed dramatically, and I’ve heard different needs and challenges expressed, especially by writers. I’ve also noticed, more recently, low morale among creatives in general.
Photo by Nik To broaden my offerings and better help, I signed up for an intensive coaching certification program focusing on mindset coaching and helping people build adaptive skills. It had nothing to do with writing. The lessons about active listening and asking the right questions were things I knew but had never practiced so intensely.
The live demos and practice sessions allowed me to use different parts of my brain with intention, and I will apply these skills to my business and the writers I support.
But here’s the thing . . .
One of the biggest takeaways was advice I’ve also come across in leadership research, negotiations, and mentorship. Said advice goes as follows:
If you want to support someone to find their own best answer, you never (or very, very rarely) ask them why.
Specifically, you don’t ask why they . . . feel a certain way, think a certain way, are attracted to a certain person, desire x or y, look up to z, or are hurt by a. You don’t ask because it rarely leads to an action-oriented outcome.
Meanwhile, what do writers do?
We create from the why. We live in the why. The WWWW&H are just background details. Why drives everything.
Why are we on this planet?
Why do we die?
Why is guacamole so good?
Why are the most peaceful movements often the targets of violence?
Why do we crave the things that poison us?
Why are some people “dog people” and others “cat people”?*
Why do dangerous people (who probably aren’t dog or cat people) end up in leadership roles?
Why are the most fleeting things the most precious?
Why do we think we need the things we don’t need?
Why is manipulation so simple, yet so effective?
Why do the simple moments end up being the most profound?
Why, why, why…
We work these whys out in fiction, CNF, poetry, and visual art. We (and, yes, I’m profiling a certain kind of writer here but likely the type who’d read anything I write) crave discussion about the meaningful questions over what Taylor Swift wore or how much rain is expected next Tuesday.
If we’ve been in the writing/art game a while, we learn not to impose answers but rather place our questions (all of which can be boiled down to why?) ever more delicately and insistently in the reader’s palm.
We make people think about the big questions. This is what writers do.
As a coach, I will help writers explore the whys that matter to them by asking what, who, when, where, and how.
But as a writer, I will ask why. And so should you.
So here’s a prompt: Ask a BIG “why” question in a short piece.
*If you know of a well-written example of a writer tackling this one, from a humorous or serious perspective, I’d love to read it.
Next week, I’ll talk about energy, and I can’t wait to explore the whys around that topic. For my supporters, here’s a qigong-inspired meditation in the meantime. Make sure you have a little room to yourself for these 6 minutes. :)
